Muggle Studies to Muggle Cities
by IslaProdd
Summary: What happens when the schedules at Hogwarts are messed up, and both Draco and Hermione are where they DON'T want to be?
1. Chapter 1

It was their sixth year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Things were tense, scary, and falling apart. People were dying, killing, and destroying. Homes and families were being torn apart, all by one powerful, evil wizard. But one girl didn't notice any of these things, because her world was currently draped in a blanket of panic, considering the mayhem taking place in her school.

Hermione Granger looked at McGonagall with wide eyes. "What do you _mean _the schedules are messed up?" the frizzy haired girl cried.

The professor pursed her wrinkly lips and said, "Please, miss Granger, calm yourself." She went on to explain, "I'm afraid that there has been a mix up with producing the students' course schedules, and most students will not be attending the classes they asked for."

Hermione pulled at her hair- what if she didn't get her favorite class? "Isn't there a way to fix it?" she asked hopelessly.

McGonagall shook her head and said solemnly, "I'm afraid not. Considering classes will begin tomorrow, there is no way the teachers will be able to change over seven hundred class schedules. The students will just have to take the classes they were assigned to until further notice."

Hermione sighed. "Thank you for letting me know, professor," she said in defeat, her head hanging.

McGonagall nodded tightly and said with finality, "Don't forget to let the rest of the Gryffindors know, since you _are _a prefect."

"Yes, professor," Hermione said. "I will." And with that, she left the Great Hall and headed towards the Gryffindor commonroom, where she would make the announcement that no one would get their chosen classes this year.

"This stinks," Ron pouted, stuffing his face with buttered toast and jam. "You'd think they would have at least _tried _to fix the schedules."

Harry shrugged, taking a bite from his muffin. "I'm sure they did try. They probably just didn't have enough time, right, Hermione?"

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "Apparently, they only just figured out the courses were messed up last night, so they didn't have enough time to fix all of them."

"You'd think they'd be more careful, with You-Know-Who roaming the streets," Ron grumbled. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and continued to shovel eggs into his mouth.

"Could you possibly be any more disgusting?" Hermione asked, grimacing at the red head. Ron was about to retort, but was cut off when the trio spotted professor Snape handing out the year's classes for all the students. They watched with bated breath as the long-haired man slowly made his way towards them.

When Snape had reached the three children, he stopped walking and watched them for a minute. Then he drawled, "I expect that you all will try your best to stay out of trouble this year?"

Harry smirked and answered, "Of course, professor. What would make you think otherwise?" Ron snorted into his napkin at the remark, and Hermione shot a death glare at both of her friends.

Snape's eyes flashed with anger, but his voice stayed even as he said, "Watch your mouth, Potter. We wouldn't want any… _trouble _coming to you at a time like this, would we?" And with that, he plopped three pieces of parchments onto their food and stalked away.

"You really shouldn't push his buttons like that, Harry," Hermione warned the glasses-clad boy."I doubt he'd refrain from punishing you, even if he _is _in the Order."

Harry shrugged and looked over his schedule. He groaned aloud and said, "Double potions three times a week. Might as well kill myself." He and Ron compared classes, and found they had most classes together, and only had two of the courses they had asked for. Hermione, however, didn't have a single class with either of them, but had three courses she had been hoping for.

As the girl's caramel eyes roamed the paper, she noticed that her last class of the day, for every day, was Muggle Studies. "Humph," she grunted, disappointed. She had purposely not asked for that class for a reason- she lived a Muggle life, she lived with Muggles; she didn't need to take a class about what she already knew.

"Well, boys, I'm off," she sighed, standing at placing her bag on her shoulder. She gripped her wand in one hand, the parchment in the other. "Good luck with your classes."

"You too, Hermione," Harry said kindly, waving her off.

"Bye, 'Mione," Ron said through a mouthful of last-minute bacon.

Hermione made her way out of the half-full Great Hall, not ready for school to begin. Normally, she would have been excited and jumpy, anxiously waiting seven thirty of the second of September so she could go to her first class, but today was different. She didn't _want _to take Astronomy- or half of these classes on her schedule- so there was no need to be excited. In fact, she dreaded the day.

The frizzy-haired girl finally reached the Astronomy Tower. She walked up the winding stair case, wondering if she was going to be the first one there. Her footsteps made echoing sounds in the empty column of stone. When she reached the top of the flight of steps, she sighed and looked around the classroom- empty, except for the professor.

"Good morning, professor Sinistra," Hermione said, making her presence known in the dark room.

The woman looked up from her book, startled by the sudden sound, but smiled when she saw the frizzy haired Gryffindor. "Class is starting already?" Sinistra asked the girl.

Hermione shrugged and replied, "I don't believe so. I'm just early."

"Well, early bird catches the worm, don't they?" Sinistra stood and began to bustle around the classroom, moving things into their correct places, pushing in chairs, and cleaning off desks. She said aloud, although it was more to herself, "It's terribly dirty in here."

"I wouldn't mind helping you clean," the Gryffindor girl offered, setting her bag onto a desk and stepping towards the blond woman.

"Oh, no, I couldn't ask that of a _student," _Sinistra laughed, waving off the idea.

"It's alright," Hermione persisted. "I would like to."

"Well, then, in that case, make yourself useful and sweep the floor, please." Hermione nodded, grabbed a broom, and soon the floor was spotless.

Astronomy flew by in a matter of minutes, although the course was an hour long. Since it was too early in the day to actually look at the stars, the class had simply taken notes and done star maps. When the class was over, Hermione quickly swept her notes into her bag, grabbed her wand, and made her way to one of her favorite courses- Transfiguration.

Knowing the head of her house, Hermione knew that McGonagall would have a very busy day for the students, most likely filled with more advanced techniques and wand movements, probably some note taking on theories. A little bit of everything. Hermione could feel her stomach bubbling with excitement.

When Hermione entered the classroom, she expected to be the only one there. However, that was not the case- another boy, Slytherin, sat alone at a table in the back, head down on the desk, shoulders slumped.

"Malfoy?" The words were tumbling from her lips before she could think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! So, here's the second chapter. I don't know if anyone's actually following this story, but I was getting annoyed- I've written all the way to chapter ten (it's really fun to write!) and I haven't gotten to post the next chapter! ;( So, here it is! I hope you enjoy!**

_When Hermione entered the classroom, she expected to be the only one there. However, that was not the case- another boy, Slytherin, sat alone at a table in the back, head down on the desk, shoulders slumped._

"_Malfoy?" The words were tumbling from her lips before she could think. _

The head of the boy snapped up when he heard his name being called, and his icy blue eyes roamed the empty room. Well, he _thought _it was empty.

His cold glare fell upon the one and only Hermione Granger, know-it-all, teacher's pet, troll-faced, buck-toothed, frizzy-haired, frumpy, big-headed, mudblood Granger. Scowling, Draco said, "What do you want, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she remembered that she and Malfoy were _not, _in fact, on friendly terms. "Leave me alone, Malfoy," she spat. She strode to the front of the room, plopped down in a seat in the middle of the front row, and began to unpack her books from her bag.

Draco's smirk was plastered on his face as he watched the girl's back. "You do know that _you're _the one who called out my name, right?" he teased. "I think _you _should be the one to leave _me _alone."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said through clenched teeth, not turning around.

"Whatever you say, Granger," Draco said, his lip curled. He lay in head back into his arms on the table, and closed his eyes.

He was tired, to say the least.

He had bags under his eyes, his face was a sickly yellow color, and his eyes were dead. Even Draco himself admitted that he looked terrible.

He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, on the account of him and his father consulting the boy's plans for the vanishing cabinet through floo powder. That conversation, however, was to stay a secret.

Draco felt himself drifting off into sleep when he heard a crisp voice from far away: "Care to join us, Mr. Malfoy?" Said boy snapped his head up, is mind still groggy. He looked around the now full room, the children snickering behind covered hands. He sneered at them all, then looked to the front of the room where the old bat, McGonagall, stood, lips pursed.

"My apologies, Professor," Draco said sarcastically. "Seem to have lost track of the time." He let his eye flicker to his left, and he caught sight of an uneasy Hufflepuff sitting next to him.

"No matter, Mr. Malfoy. Don't let it happen again," McGonagall's eyes narrowed as she looked at the blond teen. She continued, "Now, if you wouldn't mind standing, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's brow furrowed, and he asked stupidly, now completely awake, "Huh?"

"_Stand, _Mr. Malfoy. If it's alright with you, I'm in the middle of giving assigned seats," McGonagall crossed her arms over her chest. Snickers and cruel giggles ran around the room, some people rolled their eyes at the blond's stupidity.

Draco, slightly blushing, gathered up his bag and moved away from the seat. McGonagall thanked him, sarcasm coating her words, and ordered a Ravenclaw to take the now open seat. Draco stood against the wall awkwardly, watching as people stood and sat somewhere new.

Finally, he heard his name called. He followed the professor's pointing finger. He plopped into a seat in the middle of the classroom, a bit towards the left. The old bat looked down at her paper, up at Malfoy, then back at her paper, nodding. She then called, "Hermione Granger." She pointed to the last empty seat next to the blond teen.

Draco's eyes widened when he heard the name being called. He practically choked on his own saliva- _Hermione Granger? _He turned to look at the last person standing- the girl with frizzy hair that framed her plain face. Her mouth was slightly open, and he could almost _see _the gears in her brain working.

When Hermione broke from her reverie, she cried to professor McGonagall, "No! Please, professor, can't you change the seats? I can't sit next to him!"

"I'm sorry, miss Granger, but I have already made the seating charts, and I don't plan on changing them for your convenience," McGonagall said crossly. She eyed the Gryffindor girl, almost apologetically, and nodded for her to take her seat.

Granger grudgingly trudged to the empty seat. She plopped into the wooden chair, pouting, and began to unpack her things. She said under her breath, "This stinks."

Draco snorted in agreement. He settled back into his chair, determined to ignore the fact that he was sitting next to a _mudblood, _and trying to recover from the _incredibly _embarrassing moment he had just endured. He lazily crossed his arms over his chest and let his face show indifference. His regular mask.

Transfiguration went just as quickly as Draco's first class of the day. He wasn't really paying attention, only copying the notes and wand movements. Not letting any of the information sink in. He didn't really need it, anyways. Soon, this would all be over, and everything would be ok again.

Kind of.

When the second class was dismissed, Draco watched as the mudblood rushed out, heading for her next class. Malfoy, however, slowly packed his things and meandered down the hall. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching as other students rushed past him in both directions, elbowing, tripping, shouting.

The blond teen felt his mind wandering, and didn't bother with trying to bring it back to reality. Instead, he began thinking of his last class- he had to sit next to that annoying Granger. It was unfair, he thought, that he, a respectable pureblood, had to even be in the same room as that filthy mudblood. The teen ran his hand through his platinum blond hair, grimacing to himself at the thought of the Muggle-born. He continued to run his hand through his loose, messy hair- he had recently stopped slicking it back. He liked it better when it was messy and free. Unlike he was… Free…

Malfoy entered the classroom that was located in the dungeons- when he had gotten in the basement of the castle, he didn't know. But somehow, he had gotten down here, and that was enough for him. The blond took a seat in the front of the class, happy to be graced with the presence of one of his favorite teachers.

Draco looked around the classroom- he was first there, again. He didn't mean to be the first person in each classroom- he was even walking slowly on purpose to _keep _from being the first there. But with no one to walk with or talk with, it was hard to be there later.

Draco didn't have a single class with any of his friends, or _minions, _rather. He was completely alone for five hours, five days a week. Not including lunch, that is.

Draco began to unpack his bag, when he heard more of the students file into the dark, cold classroom. He turned to pick through the crowd, looking for any familiar faces.

Sadly, he _did _see a familiar face- two of them, to be exact. A red-headed weasel, and scar-headed, living boy. Draco groaned to himself quietly, then turned around in his seat, crossing his arms. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, right after Hermione Granger? Could this get any worse?

Once professor Snape had made his regularly grand- and loud- entrance, the class began. The learning material of the day consisted of the theory of Polyjuice potion. Weasel and Scar-head weren't paying attention at all, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

When class was dismissed, Draco picked up his bag and slowly made his way out of the class, going out of his way to bump into Potter.

"Watch it, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, calling after the retreating blond head.

Draco stopped and turned, a smirk playing at his mouth. "What was that, Potter?" he called back. Before the black haired boy had a chance to answer, however, Draco had disappeared into the crowd.

The blond teen stuffed his hands into his pockets again, heading for the Great Hall. He wasn't really hungry, but he figured he may as well go to the lunch break, if only to see his friends. When he entered the already crowded room, he headed for the table to the right that was covered with the green table runner.

Draco plopped into a seat between Crabbe and Goyle, across from Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Draco merely nodded at the Blaise, his only true friend (considering he was just using Crabbe and Goyle as henchmen, and Pansy was just a clingy gnat), and grunted at the chorus of "Hello, Draco"'s from the two boys next to him.

"Hello, Draco," Pansy sang, smiling sweetly- yet sickeningly- at the blond across from her. He didn't reply.

"What's up with you?" Blaise asked, taking a bite from his tuna sandwich.

"Got the worst classes," Malfoy grunted. "First I've got stupid History of Magic, then Transfiguration with the mudblood, then Potions with the weasel and Scar-head, then who knows what…"

"'At stinks," Crabbe said through a messy mouthful of peanut butter and pickles.

"Shut up," Draco muttered. His eyes flickered towards the other side of the common room, and he spotted a certain frizzy haired girl, which caused a flicker of frustration in his chest.


End file.
